One Look
by BoothGirlForever
Summary: Booth is always watching. Set early in the series. Around Season 2-3.


**Another little, short piece. Can't seem to write longer at this point. Probably set somewhere in the early seasons - maybe Season 2-3. I do love old-school BnB.**

**JUST ONE LOOK**

I know he looks at me.

I'm quite aware of it, in fact. Angela, Hodgins, Cam, Dad, even Booth himself – none of them think I notice it. They think I'm oblivious, that if it isn't scientific, or anthropological, or literally laid out in front of me, that it might as well be invisible. At many other times in my life, that is actually the case. I tend to be extremely focused. But the looks – I know it. The knowledge is with me every day.

How could I not know that he looks at me? Although my saying this flies in the face of everything I believe in, I defy anyone to be watched like he watches me and not feel it. Booth watches with his whole body. The concept challenges my notion of what is possible in this world. _He_ challenges my notion of what is possible in this world. Booth cannot be defined by my standard terms. This infuriates me, but I reluctantly admit that it intrigues me, as well.

He has more than one way that he looks at me. Each is distinct, unique. And they are all intense, though some more than others. There are days when I must summon all of my concentration just to keep from being distracted.

When we're arguing about a case, he stares challengingly at me, belligerence and impatience simmering on the surface. It's not directed at me as much as it is the pertinent facts of the case. We are, both of us, committed to solving the crimes. Our preferred method of arriving at that place may differ, indeed may cause us to violently disagree, but the endpoint is the same.

At times I won't understand a pop culture reference, and he corrects me, his eyes full of condescension and amusement. He's not laughing _at_ me, not really – somehow, I understand that. Or, if he is, it's the laughter of a big brother for a little sister. It's more an amusement that bespeaks of kindhearted enjoyment. He likes when I don't know something; likes being the one to correct me. That space is reserved exclusively for him, however. _He_ can laugh at me, but he deals swiftly and ruthlessly with anyone else who attempts the same. It's exceedingly illogical. But, _Booth_ is illogical, so I suppose he's behaving true to form.

When we're sharing something humorous, his smile transforms his entire face, drawing an answering smile from me, as if gravity was somehow increased when he grins. Again, illogical, I know, but this is what I see. This is how I feel.

When I truly anger or hurt him, his face swiftly changes, tightening up like a hand clenched into a fist, and his eyes are like black pebbles deflecting all light, letting nothing into their darkness.

When I'm in danger...it's difficult to describe the expression on his face when I'm in danger. Worse, much worse than when he is mad. If I was to become lyrical, I would have to say that his expression is merciless, enraged. The face of vengeance and death.

When I'm hurting, his face mirrors my pain. Sad, but with an added layer; a calm, steadfast, unquestioning support. He is always, forever, here for me.

When he thinks I'm unaware of his presence, he watches me with a seeking, searching stare; wanting answers to questions I haven't been asked. Or...perhaps he has asked them. Just not in a way with which I am familiar.

We're closer to the edge than we've ever been.

When I was young, an old woman lived two doors down from my second foster home. She was nice, and she made cookies for me. One day my foster parents weren't speaking to each other, and I was uneasy, so I went to her house. She tried to calm me, and then she told me something I didn't understand. 'There's people that leave strong feelings too long unexpressed. Some, they fight about it, and it clears the air. But others, they won't speak of it, because it's not time yet. Sometimes them feelings just need a little more time in the oven.' I didn't want her to know I didn't understand, so I said nothing. But now I think I do understand. I didn't, not until I met Booth.

We're almost ready.

I'm waiting for that one look. When it comes, when I see it – and I see everything, I don't plan on missing it – I'll be ready.

**Thanks so much for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoyed it**


End file.
